


Dean's List

by iniquiticity



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adderall Abuse, Adoption, Alcohol, Alex is Intensely Maladjusted, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breathplay, Drug Use Typical for College Kids, Giant Slut Alexander Hamilton, M/M, Men at Baffling Odds With Their Feelings, Promiscuity, Reference to Underage Relationships, Teacher-Student Relationship, The False Narrative You Can Care About Your Student and Also Fuck Them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 01:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/pseuds/iniquiticity
Summary: Alex was excited to go to Columbia University and becomeTheAlexander Hamilton. He was not at all going to miss fucking Principal Washington. In fact, he was absolutely sure that there were some college professors that would be just as, if not more interesting, to fuck.Exactly one of these is true.





	Dean's List

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wellreadfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellreadfan/gifts).



> this is a sequel to [summa cum laude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106763/), a story about a school principal/underage student relationship, and makes significant references to that relationship and other general misuses of the power of adults over children. please review the tags and decide by hitting or not hitting the back button if that is not what you want to read. comments are moderated. 
> 
> thanks for nim for her help beating this story into shape. as always, i can be reached on tumblr at [iniquiticity](http://iniquiticity.tumblr.com), or on twitter at [@iniquiticity](https://twitter.com/iniquiticity)

**

“So,” Alex began, and then let the sigh escape him as Washington rubbed his nipples in between broad fingers, “When I go to Columbia, are you gonna find some new boy to fuck?”

Washington glanced up from where he was looking at Alex’s body and made eye contact with him. HIs gaze was unreadable. Even though they’d been fucking for a good while, he still found it challenging to figure out what went on in that head. Washington could be transparent, but it only happened when it served his purpose. Asshole.

Washington brought his hands up and cupped Alex’s face. He looked Alex straight in the eye, and even then Alex couldn’t figure what the hell went on behind those dark eyes. It was oddly uncomfortable, to be looked at so directly, even though he usually adored the intensity.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Washington said, and then let his hands ring loosely around Alex’s neck. Alex liked it a lot when Washington choked him, though the older man was, in his worrying, over-concerned and stupid way, hesitant about the whole thing.

“I think it’s all of my business,” Alex replied. He wiggled on Washington’s legs, sitting back on his haunches and running a hand through his hair. Then he leaned forward, pushing his head into the curve of Washington’s shoulder into his neck. A little bite there. Washington was into that, Alex knew, and he heard the hiss of breath. He pressed his mouth to Washington’s ear and licked him a little, lowering his voice. “Without me to control your perverse urges to fuck adolescents, what will happen? You could go out of control. Whip your dick out in front of the whole school during an assembly or something.”

Washington gave him a chuckle, at least. Washington wasn’t all molten iron all the time now, holding him, demanding. Sometimes he had a softer edge, Alex learned. For example, he liked to be bitten, but not too hard. He touched Alex more.

Not that he hit less harder. Thank god for that.

Washington turned to face him, “I don’t think that will happen, but I appreciate your concern nonetheless.”

“Did you have an innocent, virginal youth that you corrupted before me?” Alex asked.

Washington cast him an unimpressed look. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he said, and then he touched Alex’s face again, only this time he did that thing where he put his thumbs at the corners of Alex’s mouth and pushed, forcing his jaw open, and kissed him so hard Alex thought he might be suffocated by that tongue.

****

Alex spent more time at Washington’s house now. At first John - who was in on the secret, who thought it was funny he was fucking Washington - had covered for him when Michelle and Victor wondered where he was for days at a time. Sometimes they were “studying” and sometime they were going on “day trips” and a few times they went to John’s family’s “summer house,” which was actually an excuse for John to fuck other dudes and Washington to fuck him.

Then he realized his fake parents didn’t actually cared where he was, as long as the grades looked good and he got into a good school. And the grades were fine, because the essays were easy even if school was shit, and then he got into Columbia, and he was pretty sure as far as his parents were concerned, he could have disappeared off the earth and they wouldn’t have noticed.

He had a key to Washington’s house, even if still had to sneak in. He set an alert on his phone to show up at home for dinner.

They had been thrilled he had been accepted. Well, Michelle had been thrilled, squeezing him and giving him a kiss on the cheek and an _I’m so proud of you, honey!_ Victor had, of course, given him an approving look and discussed his own history of getting into college.

John was going to Clemson, like he had known from literally the moment he was born. Henry paid a lot of money for John to go to Clemson, so John went to Clemson. Eliza went to NYU, because Phillip paid a lot of money to get her to go to NYU. Strange to think they were all going their separate ways.

Washington, of course, stayed here. Washington wasn’t a big fan of going places.

****

“I got into Columbia. Early Decision,” he had told Washington. They were drinking, or rather Alex was drinking and Washington was sitting there with his glass of whiskey, barely sipped.

“Congratulations,” Washington said, “That’s a very good school.”

Alex stared at him, a little drunk. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but there was a strange, expectant silence in his ears.

“Have you selected a major yet?” Washington asked. It wasn’t the right thing, but he wasn’t sure what the right thing was.

“Political theory and financial economics,” he said, and took another gulp of his drink and felt the world pleasantly swim. It was a Friday night and there was nothing to do after this, and he even stayed at school all day like Washington wanted.

“How very civic of you,” Washington said.

Alex finished off the glass and put it down on the marble island. He looked across at Washington and smiled at him, wide and open-mouthed. “I’m going to fuck the professors there too.”

Washington tilted his head, unreadable. Then he put the glass down and walked around the island, standing next to Alex and taking him in. Something dark flickered in Washington’s eyes, that Alex wanted. He took a rather large gulp of whiskey and had to take a step back to avoid falling over, and when he looked up Washington was standing in his space, moving the glass away from him.

“Is your first act in political theory to assist the fair educators of our country?” Washington asked. Alex felt the slide of the man’s broad hand on his side through his clothes. He took a sharp little breath, felt the heat.

“Well, it was really my first act to assist one particular fair educator,” he murmured, aiming for seductive. Slur or not, it worked.

“It’s called a pilot program.” Washington’s hand wrapped low around his waist, the other on his neck.

****

Michelle was at his graduation. This was a big surprise, and also it messed up his plans to head to Washington’s afterwards. Nonetheless, he found the whole thing pretty incredibly boring. He sat here, in alphabetical order with assholes on both sides. At least he could text John and Eliza in the group chat, complaining about sitting here and melting in this damn gown that they made you buy. Graduation gowns was something he was going to target in his political theory stage. This was a clear attack on the disadvantaged. Had Michelle not given him a credit card and told him to be responsible, where would he have gotten the hundred dollars for this, other than more shitty debt?

There were speeches he ignored. He had just missed out on valedictorian for bullshit attendance reasons, as if anyone cared that he went to class after he’d gotten into Columbia. Columbia certainly didn’t give a shit, because he still got amazing grades. Maybe they should have planned this in a better way if they actually expected any of them to actually show up or care about class.

Not that the point of this was for any of the kids anyway. That feeling that someone was talking about how good you had done for their own purpose - it didn’t go away. Over there he could see all the parents talking excitedly to each other, checking their phones. They all worked so hard for their private tutors, he thought, bitterly.

At least there was one upside. He finally sat up and put his phone away (ignoring the pile of eggplant emojis John sent him) as Washington took the podium and took a deep breath. Washington looked really good today, in one of his better suits, freshly shaved. Powerful. Imposing. The principal, Alex though. He shifted and thanked the gown.

“Students,” Washington said, “It’s hard for me to express how proud I am of all of you. To remember many of you four years ago and now to see you here, all with so many plans, and bright futures moving forwards, and the excitement of your whole lives in front of you.”

Alex closed his eyes. God, Washington could fuck, but he he could also speech. The way that Washington made a speech did something inside Alex that he in no way was ever going to name or examine. What he did know was that it was good, and it made Alex think, even if only for a moment, that maybe there _was_ a bright future and the excitement of his whole life in front of him.

He opened his eyes. Washington was talking about hard choices and how he believed every one of them had the confidence to make the right decision, which Alex knew to be laughable, and yet --

\--- maybe they did have the possibility to make the right choice. And yet --

\--- were there other people out there that could actually make Alex think that it was possible that he would make the right choice? Could he fuck them?

None would be like Washington, would they?

That was an unpleasant thought. This was going to be the last speech Washington ever made to him, wasn’t it? There had been assemblies and the various lectures and Washington being angry at him about school bureaucracy. He always enjoyed when Washington cared, and even when Washington had to pretend to care. Obviously, Washington lectures would not follow him to Columbia.

He sat back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and watched Washington talk. Washington was incredibly hot, and his voice did things to Alex that he thoroughly enjoyed. He took a breath and made actual eye contact.

Washington was saying, “The future will always present challenges. There is nothing more mature, more responsible, more evident of growth and maturity than to look at change, understand the positives and negatives, and know how to use it to become an even greater version of yourself. To know what we should take with us, and know what we should leave, is a skill only time brings us.”

Alex looked down at his lap. On his phone, John had sent him several more eggplant emojis. Eliza had felt inspired by the speech too. He looked up again at Washington and tried to etch the man’s voice into his brain.

What did he want to keep? The feeling Washington gave him, when he spoke like that. When Washington looked at him in the morning and made him eat oatmeal.

He wanted to keep the way John made him laugh with impressions of their valedictorian, and Eliza’s scolding.

He could leave the way Henry Laurens scowled at him, the way Michelle hugged him and kissed him and told him she was proud.

He saw Washington walking towards him but Michelle was here, asking him about Columbia and listening to Henry talk, because naturally of course she and Henry Laurens could be friends about something. Washington came closer, stopping in the middle to shake hands and tell parents how proud he was, or something.

“Oh, Principal Washington!” Michelle said, turning from her conversation with Henry Laurens and smiling at him, “That was an amazing speech that you gave. I just know that everyone’s in such good hands with you.”

“Mrs. Hamilton,” Washington said, cool, and something warm in Alex welled up, “Thank you so much for coming. I know it just meant so much to Alex to have you here. What’s more important for being there for our children when we need them, in whatever form we can be?”

“I completely agree, Mr. Washington,” Henry said, turning from John (he could leave, Alex thought, how John’s dad made John look), “And I think that’s why you should expand the ROTC programs at the school.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laurens, I will take that into advisement,” Washington said, in the voice that Alex knew meant he was going to forget it promptly. All three adults gave him a look when he suppressed the snorted laughter, “I just wanted you tell your, Mrs. Hamilton, that I absolutely know your son is going to do amazing things in Columbia and moving forward. He can be frustrating, but he’s so bright.”

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” Michelle said, and Alex felt his whole stomach tie in angry little knows. If you were Washington, he thought, you would smile here, so he did.

Washington put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, hard, like he liked it. He knew. They both knew.

“He is,” Washington said.

“Anyway, Mr. Washington,” Henry Laurens said, and Washington turned away from Alex, and Alex pretended that Michelle’s approval could stand in for Washington’s.

He thought about the processors in Columbia and wondered if their approval felt so stony and meant so much. Surely Washington couldn’t have been that special?

****

“So you’re packed,” Washington said. Alex wasn’t unaware that Washington had revealed a special bottle of whiskey from somewhere and had poured them both in his favorite whiskey glasses. Alex looked at all of it and thought about the car, and their stuff, and what the dorms had looked like during the college tour.

He took in Washington’s kitchen. The dark countertops and matching cabinets, with the six-burner stove. The art, which he always thought was weird. So this was going to be the last time he was going to be there, then? So this would be the last time that he would sneak in through the backyard fence and sit on the couch?

“Yeah,” he answered, and took a gulp. It was a good whiskey, even by Washington’s terms. Better than normal, smooth and smoky in his throat, warm in his stomach. “We leave tomorrow. I think we’re supposed to leave early but Michelle’s flying in tonight and she sucks at anything the day after she lands, so it will probably be in the afternoon.”

Felt strange to actually say that to Washington, who was watching him in his opaque way. Actually drinking the whiskey he poured, though. Usually Washington drank a lot slower than him, but they were both speeding right along.

“Are you supposed to be back tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said, again, and didn’t like the way it sounded. At least he was getting drunk at fairly record speed right now, and faster when Washington refilled his glass, “It’s gonna be pretty fucking weird not coming over here.”

Washington nodded.

“You gonna miss me, you pervert?”

That actually got a chuckle. “Yes.”

“Me too,” he said, “I mean, it’s going to take me awhile to find someone else to choke me.”

“You’re an eminently chokable young man,” Washington said, “I have complete confidence you will find someone to choke you promptly.”

Alex was surprised by the laugh, and he put the whiskey glass down. Then he hopped off the stool, steadying himself for a moment and then walking over to where Washington sat. Washington turned to face him, and then Alex put his hands around his shoulders.

“You are so hot.”

“Thank you.”

Alex pressed in for a kiss and got the one he was asking for. He felt Washington’s hands on his back, felt them grab his ass and groaned, felt Washington stand from the stool, pressing their bodies together so they could feel their joined interest. Washington pressed one powerful thigh between his legs and Alex moaned, pushed back against it. Man, he was going to find someone just as fit to fuck next. There better be college professors who were also obsessive about their body and perfection and all the other stupid shit Washington cared about.

Washington pushed him against the island, bending him backwards, shoving his tongue into his mouth, eager hands on his t-shirt. Bossy Washington was his favorite Washington, the way he tossed brought his hands to Alex’s bare skin under his shirt.. Washington even went to the buttons of his jeans, which was really nice. Usually Washington made him take his own pants off, and did you know how hard it was to unzip jeans when you were hard and drunk and desperate?

His cock in Washington’s hand, and oh, did that feel good, even a little dry and sharp. Washington swallowed the noise that he made, let him grind into his hand. Nicer than normal, especially when he was being so bossy. Sometimes Washington told him to --

“Stay still.”

Alex hissed and clenched, everything delicious alight, “Make me.”

“Excuse you, young man,” Washington said, and then with easy strength twisted him, pressing his front against the island, and Alex felt the hard outline of Washington’s cock pressed against his bare ass, felt Washington’s hands wrestling his arms together behind his back, felt Washington breathing against his back.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, you’ve got me now,” he teased, and Washington looked at him in the best way. He pushed back against Washington’s slacks, shifting himself so he could grind backwards, which was almost as good.”

The pull backwards almost caused him to fall over. “Walk,” Washington said, in the bossiest voice possible, and that also almost caused him to fall over.

“Or else what?” he asked, trying not to stumble over his own feet, jeans at his thighs tangling up in his steps.

With a grunt Washington picked him up and threw him over his shoulder, one hand behind his knees, the other hand providing a sharp smack to his bare ass. Alex twisted and sunk his teeth into Washington’s back, provoking a surprised gasp.

“Little runt,” Washington growled, and then Alex hit the bed and Washington was on top of him, holding his wrists and glaring at him.

“Yeah,” Alex said, and smiled the toothiest smile that he could, “Going to college and still got no discipline, huh? Who knows what trouble I could get into?”

Washington bent his head and kissed him so hard his teeth hurt and spots broke out in his vision. Washington bit his jawline so hard that he thought there might be a mark and fuck, he’d have to come up with a ridiculous lie. Washington bit him again on his chest, harder still, and that one was going to be there for a good long while.

Then Washington pulled his head up and stared at him, “If you move,” he said, concise and sharp with fury, “I’ll leave.”

“You wouldn’t,” Alex said, but he kept his hands up when Washington let go to pull his shirt off.

“Try me,” Washington replied, every inch the challenger who Alex happened to know had fought off the board that had wanted to reduce their discount lunch benefit.

He didn’t. He let Washington strip and laid there and took in every new inch of that powerful body that did these things to him. He was even still as Washington pulled his jeans off, left his boxers on the ground, and then thank fuck they were naked and Washington was kissing him again. Washington’s hand on his cock again, this time with effort, hurting a little more, but even so the man knew how to get to him.

“You’re going to make me come already,” he complained, even as Washington held him down with one hand and jerked him off with ruthless efficiency.

“Am I?” Washington asked, and twisted his wrist, and Alex cried out with the effort to push back the orgasm.

“How many times are you going to make me come tonight?” Alex asked, gasping.

“What an interesting question,” Washington said, and Alex came all over himself, feeling shivery with current pleasure and the anticipation of more and how Washington drew his finger through the come on his stomach. He was going to look ridiculous tomorrow, he thought --

\-- when he was moving.

Something in his whole body went cold, and Washington must have noticed, because he stopped.

Then Alex sat up. He drew his hands up Washington’s bare chest.

“Lay down,” Washington said to him, voice pitched low, ordering, “Whatever you’re thinking about, I’m going to make you forget it.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, because that was what Washington wanted, and Washington then bent his head and took his soft cock into his mouth and holy fuck. Washington sucked him back to hardness even though it hurt, and Washington played with his balls even though they were sensitive and everything was shocky and a little painful and absolutely fucking perfect.

Washington always fucking knew how to make him scream. Washington was good at a lot of things, and Alex liked a shitload of them, and one of them was definitely making Alex scream. Washington held him down and sucked him off and teased him and eventually Washington fucked instead of him, powerful and intense and him whimpering and asking for more all at once. Fuck, Washington coming inside of him, and him forcing himself to remember that, the way Washington gasped into his ear and bit him, and then held him afterwards, one powerful leg thrown over him.

“Don’t go to sleep,” Washington said, his own voice thick. Alex groaned, but Washington told him to do something, so he did it.

“Where are you--” he muttered, because Washington’s broad warmth left him, and the bed rose without his weight, and finally Alex wiggled around, ignoring how sore it made him to sit up.

Washington came back. He was naked, but at least he’d washed the come off him, and he sat back on the bed, holding a wrapped box that looked small in his hand.

“Fuck,” Alex croaked.

“You don’t have to open it now,” Washington said, and he put the wrapped box in Alex’s hand, “But think of it as a going away gift.”

“Is it a dildo?” he asked, studying it.

“I would not get you a dildo this small, Alex.”

Alex actually laughed, and it hurt, “Fuck, I hope not,” he said, and with a wiggling effort pushed off the bed, testing his legs and seeing how much everything hurt. Tomorrow was going to be a day; it was dark outside.

He had to get home.

Fuck.

“Well,” he said, “Thanks for all the fucking, pervert.”

“Thank you for being so accommodating,” Washington said, and stood in front of him. He tilted Alex’s face up at him and kissed him on the forehead, “Good luck in college.”

“Good luck with the board of assholes,” Alex said, and wiggled out of the loose embrace. He took a breath and picked up his clothes from the ground.

****

There were things about college that were as he expected and things that he did not expect.

On the unfortunately side, there were a lot of old professors who clearly did not give a fuck about the classes at all, and had the unfortunate downside of being ugly old people. On the upside, it was pretty easy to immediately identify the next good options, who immediately smiled at him and lots of practice meant Alex knew exactly what that smile meant.

It wasn’t Washington, but it was good enough.

He did expect a bunch of rich assholes to show up and do absolutely nothing. That happened in spades. It wasn’t that he didn’t love going out and getting hammered three nights a week, but there were essays to write, and plenty of people who didn’t seem to be interested in that at all. You could party and write essays, all you had to do was not sleep, and who gave a shit about not sleeping?

Actually some of the people in college were cool, including his new roommate, who’s real name was actually Gouverneur. (“Charles. It’s my middle name. No, I don’t know why the fuck my parents named me that.”) Even though Charles was by all accounts an extremely rich person who didn’t know that Alex was poor, he seemed to be an OK guy. This came as a surprise as well.

He hung out with Charles’ friends sometimes, but honestly the guy was the least asshole of the group. One guy, Duer, was all right.

It was strange to not hang out at Washington’s house. He missed the whiskey and the weird art and the ritual of climbing through his back fence and even occasionally pretending to be the pool boy for the neighbors.

 _He’s probably already grooming some nubile young boy to fuck now,_ Alex thought. _It’s not a big deal._

A few weeks into class, when he’d stayed after hours to learn all about military history, which was something incredibly riveting thing he cared a lot about, Professor von Stueben asked him if he wanted to come over for a drink, which, of course, he did.

“You are an exceptional young man,” von Stueben said to him, and poured him whiskey. He took a sip and wondered if it was OK to make suggestions.

“Thank you, professor,” he said, smiling.

“Please, call me Friedriech.”

Much, much later he left, feeling a little better. Better enough. At least.

_Alexander Hamilton (2:08 AM): you need to give my prof whiskey suggestions_

_Lucius Cinnanatus (5:49 AM): You usually had Glenfiddich 15 year._

_Alexander Hamilton (8:38 PM): you find a nubile young innocent to fuck yet?_

_Lucius Cincinnatus (8:39 PM): Yes._

****

_Alexander Hamilton (11:25 PM): hope your pretty young boy is sucking your cock right now, yanno, school started, lotta stress_

_Alexander Hamilton (12:19 AM): come on spill the deets, its cabbage night_

_Alexander Hamilton (2:18 AM): also can you tell my new dude to choke me_

****

So it was OK, school, partying, seeing Friedriech. You had to admire the guy, who had obviously gotten fucking his students down to an art. In fact, Friedriech introduced him to a couple of other students who he was fucking, who were actually amazing people. The nice thing about mostly being at Pierre’s place was that he never had to look at anything in his dorm, including the nicely wrapped box Washington had given him and that kept showing up in places and not, as it should have, disappearing into the void.

Pierre was the oldest of the group and bought him beer.

“So you actually call him your boyfriend?” he asked Pierre, one day when they were sitting in Pierre’s apartment that he knew Friedriech paid for. Pierre was more of a wine guy. Alex drank whatever was free, even if he wouldn’t have picked it himself.

“Well, that’s what he is,” Pierre replied, shrugging, “I mean, we’ve been together for more than two years, he pays for my apartment, we go on dates. I love him and he loves me.”

“But he sleeps with other people. Like me.”

“So?”

Alex frowned. “Don’t you think that’s, you know. Don’t you think if you love someone, you can only sleep with them?”

“That seems pretty boring,” Pierre drank some more wine, and then he stood up to adjust the blinds, so that more light poured into his apartment. You wanted all the light you could get in December, really. “Plus, I know he loves me, even if he fucks other people. I wouldn’t want to restrain him if he felt I couldn’t fulfill some obligation of his. I like Ben and Will. Also, it would be really hard if I couldn’t tell anyone that we had this thing. Why, does it bother you that the professor you’re fucking has three other boyfriends?”

“No,” Alex said,and shrugged. He wished for whiskey. Glenfiddich 15 year, if it was possible.

“Well, now you’re part of the secret club,” Pierre grinned at him. “I mean, if you wanted to fuck someone else other than one of us, that would be fine too. Just be safe, you know?”

“Thanks.” Alex thought about Washington, and wondered if he had already found someone new to fuck in the school. Would he go directly to some freshman, or was there someone he had an eye on that he had just waited to move on after Alex left?

He didn’t care who Washington fucked, he thought to himself, resolute. He didn’t care either when they had fucked, and now he didn’t care especially. They weren’t a couple, and Washington wasn’t his boyfriend. The thought even sat uneasy in his stomach to even think about putting that word to them.

Pierre put a cork in the bottle and set it back in the wine rack. “I mean, there’s no way you didn’t think Friedriech was fucking another student, or at least had very recently fucked another student, with how fast you and him got together, right?”

The baffled look made Pierre laugh.

“So, I guess I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I guess I’m kind of baffled that you basically showed up last week and immediately got to finding a professor to fuck.”

“Yeah,” Alex snapped, “You are kind of overstepping.”

Pierre held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Me and Friedriech didn’t even connect for a while, and it took awhile for me to realize what that connection meant. It took me an even longer time to figure out how much I cared, and how much he cared about me, and now important it all was. So I guess if that’s your goal, then kudos on getting immediately into that connection.”

“I just like fucking older guys,” Alex said, because that was easier than anything else, and for reasons beyond his comprehension he thought about Washington’s present that he hadn’t opened yet.

Pierre nodded in agreement.

He finished off the glass of wine and put it down on the table. It felt a little too sweet in his mouth, Pierre’s apartment a little too nice, Pierre just a little too close to something. Friedrich a little too close to something. That was enough of both of them, he thought. That was enough of Frierich and Pierre and Will and Ben.

“I’m going to head back to my dorm and get some homework done,” he said, “Thanks for hanging out and all.”

“Make sure you put a jacket on,” Pierre said, as he was leaving, “It’s December and I don’t want you to catch a cold.” There was a house party going on with Charlie’s friends. That was a lot safer. He woke up in the backyard, freezing, with the sun glaring down on him.

****

He recalled, unpleasantly, that when he had sex with Freidrich he wondered when the man was going to do something Washington would have done - maybe order him around a little bit, or spank him, or at least tell him not to move - and then he didn’t. Disappointing. The whiskey sucked too, even though Alex had suggested he get what Washington had. It didn’t taste as good.

So skipped the class more often than not, and sat in the back, and emailed the homework before class rather than putting it on the man’s desk. He merged himself easy into the crowd when the class departed.

One day he was studying for a final when Charlie walked in. Stumbled, more appropriately, and then cursed.

“Did you take your present back from your boyfriend after you got dumped?” he asked, picking up the tiny box with the wrapping paper torn and tossing it at him.

Alex caught it, stared at the box, and then threw it into his pile of stuff. “No, fuck you. Also, what?”

“Did you get dumped?”

Alex stared at him.

“Uh, well,” Charlie said, in his most backtracking voice, “You used to hang out with that French guy a lot, and now you don’t. So if I accidentally stepped on a mine without, you know, knowing it, then sorry.”

Alex closed the textbook with a thud and swept it under his arm, “It’s fine,” he snapped, “Pierre, his name is Pierre. We weren’t dating and we’re not dating, and I have never fucked him.” Which was true, strictly speaking. “But I’m just not hanging out with him anymore. I realized he has baggage I don’t want to deal with. And it’s not dumped. We weren’t dating.”

“So you friend-dumped him?” Charlie dumped himself on his dorm bed and pulled his feet up on the bed, bending down to take off the foot prosthetic he wore. Some accident had taken off his foot a few years ago.

Another glare.

“Changing the subject!” Charlie started again, “What are you doing for the holiday break? Are you going home to family? My dad’s taking us to Switzerland.”

“Switzerland,” Alex deadpanned.

“Yeah, for skiing. Well, I snowboard. It’s much easier to snowboard with only one foot.”

“I hate my family and I’m staying here.”

There was an awkward pause. Strange that he had forgotten no one else was like him, and somehow it hurt worse than ever to remember.

He wasn’t sure if that felt better or worse than dealing with the fact that not only did Charlie notice him and Pierre were hanging out, but then he saw they weren’t, and had said they were _dating._ That’s what it was like, when someone lived in the same room as you. Maybe he needed a new sugar daddy for his own place, one that wasn’t Friedrich.

There had to be someone else he could fuck in this college.

“Well, um,” Charlie said, “You can borrow my family if you want.”

“I don’t want to go back to my hometown, ever, okay?”

“Sorry.” Charlie turned back to his desk and pointedly looked down at his phone.

Alex grabbed his wallet and jacket and walked past him, into the chilly afternoon. There was a computer lab he knew of that would be open, and he could head there and look at pictures of other professors and judge them.

_Alexander Hamilton (2:39 PM): so you and your new boy gonna fuck all xmas break?_

_Lucius Cinnanatus (2:41 PM): No, I spend the holidays with my mother. Are you going to be in town?_

Admittedly, he was surprised to get a response. He dropped into the computer lab chair - the place empty other than the lab monitor enraptured by some game - and looked at his phone.

_Alexander Hamilton (2:48 PM): and hang out with … you? lol_

_Alexander Hamilton (2:49 PM): you said she was doing bad, and also you hate her??_

_Alexander Hamilton (2:49 PM): anyway im here_

_Lucius Cinnanatus (2:59 PM): She’s in hospice. You can spend holidays there._

_Alexander Hamilton (3:02 PM): thats gonna suuuuuuck_

_Alexander Hamilton (3:03 PM): you still havent told me if im a better lay than your new boy btwwwww… im waitingggggg_

****

It was actually even more empty than Alex could've imagined. He would have thought that there would be enough people that, for one reason or another, couldn't go home. He even cleaned his stupid dorm, finding the box - wrapping paper even in worse shape now, and he could see the box under it, black and sleek - and throwing it back into a pile of junk.

He wondered if everyone here, like Washington, forced themselves to hang out with families they hated. He wondered if they were all going to Switzerland or some distant beach or some incredible cruise. He thought, sourly, about Charlie snowboarding with only one foot. He stared out the window of his dorm room into the snowy street and then looked back behind him. Kind of pathetic, honestly. Here he was, having worked his ass off to get here, and now he was here alone. At least New York was pretty vibrant with the upcoming holidays. He had a pretty convincing fake ID, after all. He could hang out in bars, drinking, and try to get picked up by the depressed guys who had no family to go back to. That was his type.

Maybe the bar-drinking public would prepare him for his upcoming assault on the Columbia faculty. He had plans, after all. Big plans to take too many classes and sleep with six targeted individuals, five men and a woman. There was a schedule and everything. You didn't want to get attached and realize that actually the person you were sleeping with might care about you. That was not the goal.

He liked to imagine how he'd phrase the exploits to Washington. Would he send sexts of his conquests, or was that too much? Could it be too much, with him, with Washington? Washingotn hadn't told him anything about this new fuck, other than he existed. Alex had spent some time combing through Facebook and school directories to try and guess who he was. Which one of these idiot high school kids got to hear Washington talk down at them? Him, he was pretty sure. Which one of them got those broad hands on his shoulders and the low voice telling him what to do and the broad chest and jesus, that wonderful cock?

"You're not home for the holidays?" asked a man at the bar, who was suddenly sitting next to him. He'd had some whiskey, maybe the guy had been there for longer.

"Fuck my family, man," Alex said, and shrugged, "I don't care about them."

"They don't care about you?" The man asked. He was red-blonde with a few day's worth of beard, and in the beard there was some grey. Alex pegged him in his forties, based on the easy way he held the rocks glass and the lines under his eyes, not to mention the button-up that Alex could just see in the low light of the bar.

"Don't really want to talk about it," he said, because he'd just shot a text of to Michelle that he had to work, and she'd replied that she was so proud he was working so hard, because it was easy to text that kind of thing and not actually care. She sent him money, too, which was nice. He used that money to drink whiskey at bars even before the sun was setting.

The guy nodded. He took another drink. "I'm Nate."

"Alex."

"Any New Years plans otherwise?" Nate asked. Nice, that the guy was giving the casual conversation a real effort. He was good-looking enough that Alex would go home with him at about this point. Anyone who reasonably shut up about family when Alex asked them to was good in his book.

"Mostly day-drinking," Alex replied, "Dorm's not really big enough to do anything interesting. Reading, watching movies. What about you?" Finding older men at bars, he didn't add, not yet. Maybe after another drink.

"Well," Nate said, "I've got an empty room in my place if you're looking for a bigger place to stay."

Finally. "That sounds awesome, actually. Do you want to give me your address and I'll get some clothes and come over?"

Nate smiled at him. He was at least handsome enough to fuck over New Years, Alex thought. As a benefit, he looked absolutely nothing like Washington.

Nate must have been elevated by his rich family, Alex thought, a little bitterly. He owned a beautiful brownstone in a pretty nice part of the city and didn't seem to work. There were no notable downsides to this, for Alex.

In the brownstone there was one door which Nate asked him to not open or go inside. He didn't ask, at first, but after a few days of drinking and fucking all day --

"So what's with the secret room?" he asked, sitting up in Nate's bed and reaching over for his beer, which was now room temperature. He was thirsty and it was good enough.

"It's stupid," Nate said. Nate wasn't a big talker about his life. Alex respected that. But..

"You got a ghost in there you're hiding?"

"It's my ex's room," Nate said, in one breath, "She left before we met."

Alex took another gulp of room temperature beer and rolled over to take Nate in. "Wow," he said, feeling the sneer curl the corner of his mouth up.

"It's pathetic, I know," Nate said, "But, fuck. It's what I'm doing, I guess."

"Fucking college kids while waiting for your ex to take you back?"

Nate laughed, "At least I know how pathetic it is. I hope you don't leave after this, but the rebound nubile college youth thing is a pretty good gig." He resettled himself on the bed and drew an idle hand through Alex's hair, "So you just regularly fuck dudes twice your age then, becuase you're perfectly adjusted?"

"I am not adjusted," Alex replied, and Nate laughed again, pulling him in for another kiss, "I usually fuck teachers, but you'll do in a pinch."

"Did you start that in college, or is there a secret scandal with you fucking some high school teacher?"

"I don't kiss and tell," Alex said, because he could imagine how mad Washington would get if he went spouting off to some random stranger he'd just met. It was nice to imagine Washington mad, dark eyes and jaw clenched and the tight way that he moved. Maybe Washington would make him bend over and punish him.

Nate gave him a skeptical, obvious look. "Maybe your high school fuck is missing you and wish you'd come home for New Years. Teachers are off too, you know."

Alex scoffed at that. He dragged them closer, throwing a leg over Nate's leg and drawing idle fingers down his shoulder, "He's not a sentimental guy, trust me," he said, and attached his mouth to Nate's neck, right where he knew the man was sensitive.

****

He was in the dorm, looking for his backup phone battery, when it buzzed on the desk.

_Nate (11:32PM): dude my ex came back. Its a new year’s miracle! So sorry, you’ll have to find somewhere else to party tonight. I know it’s shitty of me, but somehow i feel like you don’t fuck older guys for the emotional commitment._

He opened the 18-pack of Modelo, took a swig, and found the black box Washington had given him as a present. Inside was a beautiful pen, inset with carved wood, his name carved on it. It was exactly the kind of gift Washington would give to someone.

It was fucking beautiful. He dumped it into the pen cup and downed the Modelo in one gulp.

“Hey,” he slurred, into the phone, when it was later, darker. “Happy fucking new years. Thinking of you right now. Thinking about your giant cock in my ass, thinking about your hands, thinking about the way you’d hold me down, thinking about you hitting me, thinking about you choking me, thinking about you coming inside of me, thinking about you making me do shit. Hope your fucking boy is giving your a damn good lay, hope you make him scream. Fucking made me scream. Make a fucking wish.”

****

The schedule ground him to the bone, just the way he liked it. Lots of classes, homework, clubs. He was going to be the best this fucking school ever saw, that’s for sure. He was going to be _The_ Alexander Hamilton.

You’d think you couldn’t get it all in, nailing professors and nailing your essays and also joining the debate team and doing Model UN, and you’d be wrong, because he was Alexander Hamilton, and he could definitely do it all. At least the professor-fucking was going pretty well, all things considered. There’d been some strike-outs but generally all he had to do was touch these guys in the right way to get their mind wandering.

That’s how it was, he thought. Everyone claimed to be so fucking nice and righteous and good, but get a little slutty and everyone just bent. That’s why you made sure the person you trusted the most was yourself. You couldn’t rely on any of these assholes who’d give you a quick lay if you just asked for it the right way.

Not a lot of sleep. He didn’t really need it, to be honest. He brushed off Charlie asking about him, too, because he didn’t need friends who vacationed in fucking Switzerland. It was nice to think of the list of things he didn't need: his shitty foster parents, Washington, Charlie, professors who could be tempted, assholes like Nate who just used him. There was a list of things he did need, and it was a lot shorter: him. He needed him, and he had him, and it was just fine the way it was.

Oh, he needed caffeine too, that was useful. Alcohol, very handy. Adderall, now that was an awesome thing, and okay, maybe he didn't *need* adderall, but god it was good for keeping everything together, and he could quit it whenever he wanted. If he quit, though, he might stop, and he was one hundred percent sure that he did not want to stop.

So. Another class. Economics 201. They all blurred together, a little, around the edges. It had Professor Reynolds, though. Call me Mariah, she'd told him, taking off her red blouse and gesturing him over. In a hotel room, too, maybe hiding from her husband, and that was even better, he decided. She'd rejected him a little, but it was the kind of no-means-yes rejection, and it only took a little push to change her mind.

He listened to her talk about Marxism as best he could, but you needed to fill in a word here or there, when you couldn't stop. He hid the little stumble as he exited the classroom and ignored her eyes on his back.

When he was about ten steps outside of the classroom - off to get more adderall, because he just needed a little more - a heavy hand wrapped around his bicep. He whipped around, another arm caught the weight of his backpack before it could do damage.

"Ah, Mr. Hamilton," Friedrich said, and Alex stared at him, looking around the commons at all the people who looked past them. Alex jerked his arm, but Friedrich wasn't letting go. "I haven't seen you in a good long while. I heard something about you and I was hoping we could just have a little talk."

"Fuck off," he snapped, and jerked again.

"I was hoping not to do this," Friedrich was looking apologetic, but you didn't forget words like that, and Alex tensed, his hand finding his keys in his pocket, "But I really need to talk to you about the man from grade school."

Alex's eyes went wide, and the keys settled down to the bottom of his pocket. Fuck, had he accidentally told someone about Washington, and then it had gone back? Would Friedrich say something? Would this damage his GPA or his scholarship? Would Washington's job be in danger?

He hissed a sharp breath through his teeth. "You wouldn't," he growled.

Friedrich shrugged.

"Fine," he snapped, "Lead the way."

"Wonderful."

They walked through campus in silence, over to Friedrich's office in one of the nearby buildings. Fridriech sat at his desk, littered with papers, and steepled his hands on the table, waiting.

"How do you know about Washington?" Alex asked, forcing himself to keep his voice down.

"Ah, is that his name?" Friedrich asked, tilting his head.

Alex's mouth snapped shut.

"Certainly you don’t actually think I, of all people, is going to make trouble for someone like me." Fredreich leaned back in the chair, "I know you've been avoiding myself and the rest. I'm not going to pry about why you're doing that. However, I am going to put forth my hypothesis about it: your impressive sexual exploits in only your freshman year are primarily about this Washington - perhaps you miss him, or you are jealous, or he... damaged in you in a way that made you like this."

"Shut up," he said, voice rising.

"Spring break is coming up. You should go, and what I think you should do is confront your Washington on it," Friedrich continued, as if Alex hadn't spoken, "I think that if you show Washington this." A gesture at him, as if he had some defect. "You will know more about yourself and him than ever. I think you want everyone else you are intimate with to be like him, and it's unsatisfying that we're not."

"You don't know anything about me, you fucked up child rapist," he snarled.

Friedrich seemed unperturbed. "That is all, Mr. Hamilton. You are free to go."

He stomped out, glaring up at the cold February sky, thinking about being in Washington's house, shouting at him, being held down by him, drinking with him, touching him, hearing him talk, helping him with his problems.

Beating the shit out of his new boyfriend.

****

So then, naturally, Alex was here.

He was hiding in Washington's shrubs, watching the neighbors. He was here, somehow, and he wasn't even exactly sure how he'd gotten here. Sure he remembered driving, and sneaking in, and and and. The actual physical actions, he recalled. It was only that he was lodged in this bush thinking: _how did I get here?_

Too late to turn back now, at least. Tuesday before the schoolday was out, and Washington hadn't changed his locks. He took a deep breath of the beautiful living room, looking up at the weird art and down at the hardwood floor and feeling something unknown inside him and hating it. Needed? Wanted?

He took a bottle of whiskey and poured himself some. It burned, and it felt wonderful, and he sat on one of the kitchen island stools and tried not to be so goddamn relieved to be back here. It sucked, knowing that you wanted to be back here, knowing that Washington would open that door and see him and do something. He hoped the boyfriend would come through the window like he did, so he could beat the shit out of that guy. He hoped the kid would appear so he could say that the stupid kid would never be as good as him, and Washington would never like him as much, and he would never be as interesting or cool.

Another drink. Pleasant. He went into the bedroom and dumped himself into Washington's bed. Way better than Friedrich's bed, or Nate's bed, or Mariah's bed, or definitely his bed. God, his bed was the worst, and the worst part of it was how small and depressing it seemed that there was no way powerful men with dark eyes could fit in there.

When he woke up it was dark outside and he was still in Washington's bed.

He startled to a sit and stared at the bedroom. The light was off and a blanket had been placed over him. A glance at the clock at 8:23 PM. He slung his body over the side of the bed and, taking a breath, walked outside and into the living room.

Washington was there. Washington, powerful and tall and dark and interesting, his cuffs neatly rolled over his forearms, gold ring on his finger. Heavy brows over dark eyes looking directly at him. Wide shoulders, barrel chest. Alex felt his whole body do something.

"This is a surprise," Washington said, and Alex's whole body did that something again, because it was that wonderful voice washing over him, smooth and easy, opaque. He savored it for a moment, like whiskey. Then.

"You didn't bring the new boy home to fuck?" he said, looking around.

Washington sighed a very long, strange sigh. It was not a sigh like Alex was familiar with him making. Then he put down the glass he was holding and stood. With his usual deliberateness that made Alex's heart race, he walked over. Alex looked up at him and tried not to melt under the feeling of Washington's hand on his shoulder.

"There is no one else," Washington said

There was a long silence as the wheels in his brain turned.

_What?_

Alex looked at the hand and then up at Washington, "You said there was someone else," he said, and the anger was rushing now, hot and sharp and powerful. "You said there was someone else!"

"I know."

He coiled and uncoiled in a flash, hands lashing out against Washington's stomach. The man staggered back, catching himself before he fell, looking no less fucking impenetrable. Alex hated him. Alex hated him and this house.

"You lied to me!" he shouted, "You piece of shit!"

"I know." So fucking stoic and calm and still, watching him. Alex chewed his lip and felt his face hot, felt his eyes, and fucking -- no, no, he was not going to do this, he was not going to fucking cry --

Washington offered a handkerchief. Alex balled a fist and punched him hard as he could, up this time. He hated that face. He hated those dark eyes and those heavy brows and that inscrutable gaze. When he slugged he did it with the hope that maybe that face would never look at him again.

Then he turned and stomped back into the bedroom, leaving Washington on the floor, clutching his mouth.

Later Washington knocked on the bedroom door, then opened it. Alex was sitting there, on the edge of the bed, typing furiously into his phone.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, nor do I deserve it," Washington said, standing in the doorway, "But I am sorry, and I want to apologize."

Alex looked up in one sharp motion. His eyes were narrowed. "Why?"

"I was jealous," Washington said, still not inside the room, "I let my temper get the best of me. I was angry that these other ... people ... got you. I wanted you to want me instead." There was another beat. "I'll sleep in the guest bedroom."

Alex watched him leave, silhouetted in the hallway. He stared at Washington's bed, and the bedroom in which he had spent a fair bit of time, and the covered window. On the bedside table were familiar clocks and watches and pill bottles next to tiny post-its and a calendar. On the wall hung a scene from a garden.

He pushed himself the bed and walked down the hallway. Washington was typing on his phone, looking down through his reading glasses.

"Hey, fuckhead," Alex said, and Washington looked at him over the top of the glasses and then put the phone down, "You suck ass."

Washington made a noise of agreement. Alex climbed onto the bed and sat in his lap and put his hands on the headboard on both sides of Washington's head, trapping him in. A smile that Washington clearly attempted to suppress broke free, just on the corner of his mouth, and he took the glasses off and put them on the bedside table.

"I missed you," Washington said, and Alex growled at him, and kissed him hard enough that his head clunked back against the wood behind him. There was a moment where Washington tried to resist, probably to rub the growing bump on his head, but that was not what was going to happen. What was going to happen was Alex was going to kiss him maybe until they both died. Maybe Alex would kiss him until he passed out, and this was all a really weird dream, and he'd wake up in the dorm, or Mariah's hotel room, or Nate's bed, or somewhere else.

Something strange in the kiss. His tongue probed.

Strong hands on his face, keeping him close. Sometimes when they were like this Washington would use his strength to flip them around and hold Alex down. Alex liked that, but Washington didn't do it this time. Washington wrapped his arms around Alex's body and pulled him close, and Alex could feel the heat under his dark nightclothes. Washington was, after all, the kind of man who wore a shirt to bed.

He broke the kiss with a gasp and gulped in air. Not dead, which was vaguely disappointing. Taking deep gulps, he looked up at Washington and saw those dark eyes, intense with desire. Slick lips from the kiss. Washington's chest rising and falling with his breathing. Alex chewed his own lip and stared at him.

"Wish I could have hit you harder."

"It was a very good punch." Washington reached up, hooked a finger into his lip and pulled his mouth away, revealing the missing spot where a tooth had been. That had been the strangeness. "Less than I deserved, though."

Alex put his hands on Washington's shoulders and stared at him, jaw clenched. Here they were again and he didn't know what to do or say. He wanted everything at once. He wanted this to feel different than how it felt, so fucking good. If this didn't feel so damn good, it would have been better.

"What do you want?" Washington asked.

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Alex snapped back, not leaving time in between the words, "When have you ever cared what I wanted?"

"For a long time, now."

"Fucking liar."

"Not this time."

Alex looked down at their laps and then around at the guest bedroom and then back at Washington. He thought about slugging the other man again, and the worst fucking part was he knew it wouldn't even feel that good. He'd still be mad at Washington, mad at Charlie, mad at Michelle, mad at Nate, mad at Friedrich.

With a noise he pushed himself off the bed and landed back onto the floor of the guest room. It was easier to be angry when you could pace, even if it was a pretty small place to pace. Washington watched him, in his way.

"Come back to bed," Washington said, softly. Alex hated that, when Washington had that soft little plead in his voice, like he actually cared. Like he actually wanted Alex there, not just some kid to fuck. Like he thoughtfully helped Alex fill out his forms and apply for student loans and gave him a goddamn going-away present.

What else could he do? He could go back to the dorm, or Mariah, or Friedrich. He could find someone else to fuck. He could get drunk and wake up in a goddamn alley. He could show up by surprise at Michelle's house.

He audibly growled and then he flung himself back onto the bed and kissed Washington again, only this time Washington was ready and gave a little pushback as to not give himself another lump. When they separated he was still mad about how good it was, to kiss Washington. He was mad about how good it all felt, being here.

"I'll choke you," Washington said, and pressed his hands to Alex's breastbone.

"No one interesting would choke me, you know," he said, and he grabbed Washington's wrists in his hands, pulling them to his throat, "People sucked at it."

Washington squeezed for a moment and Alex felt a flutter in his heart. Washington squeezed again, longer, and it was so good when he did it, just a little less. Things felt quiet next to the way his heart raced. It redirected the anger into something else. He had to breathe; he couldn't be mad. He had to fight to breathe and he couldn't work on any other fight at the same time. Washington squeezed a little harder and bright spots broke out in Alex's vision.

One of the many positives of Washington's large hands was that Washington could pretty easily choke him with one hand and use the other one to keep him from falling over in any direction. He could hover here, feeling the deliciousness of his whole body struggling. He didn't fall. Washington pushed him to the edge and held him there and what a wonderful fucking edge it was.

The hand released and he gasped in a sharp breath, rasping coughs. Air was harsh in his lungs and strange in his throat, unfamiliar and spectacular. Heavy. Washington held him when he coughed.

"Fuck, yeah," he wheezed, pressing his mouth to Washington's bare neck, coughing and licking him, drawing smears of spit along dark skin where he dragged open lips across skin. Being drunk was great, don't get him wrong, but there was nothing like being choked. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." A nip and he heard, cutting through his pounding hard, the sharp intake from the man under him.

"Was that good?" Washington asked.

Alex looked up at him. Hard to be mad at a dude who choked you so fucking perfectly. Without saying anything, he pushed himself off the bed, catching the stumble before he fell, and then began to furiously strip out of his clothes, leaving them in a tangled ball on the floor.

"How many times can you make me come tonight?" he asked. Washington pushed the blankets off his legs and pulled his shirt off, folding it neatly and setting it on the opposite bedside table with a stretch.

"How about until you beg me to stop?"

Alex closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure. God, that was the voice. That was the voice that skittered on his skin and went straight to his cock. That was the voice that he jerked off to. That was the voice he pretended for all of his unsatisfying lays. He stood there and stared at Washington for a couple more moments.

"Fuck yeah," he said, and then he crawled back onto Washington's lap. The man's tongue in his mouth, those hands wandering his back, running down his arms, squeezing his hips. The power and intensity of it, that only he could provide. How infuriating to know that there was one goddamn human being that made your whole body sing. He melted, like he wanted to, like it felt good to. He let Washington push him into the bed, felt the way he pressed sharp nips to his neck, to the sensitive bit in his shoulder. The way Washington pressed a line of kisses into him and stuck his tongue into Alex's ear, making him moan. When he arched up Washington pushed him down and it was even fucking better.

"Stay still," Washington said, and Alex felt shackled by those words. Deliciously so, with something trembling in him. It was just so fucking good, all of it, and he was too far gone to keep pretending he hadn't missed it so fucking much.

Washington pushing his legs apart and sitting between them, stroking his thighs with just the tips of his fingers. All that power, restrained. All that strength and it hovered over him, around him. Washington's hot mouth on his dick, and fuck, it took every nerve in his body to stop from jerking upwards. Washington's tongue on his cock and he cried out, fingers and toes tensing and flexing. He was never going to last like this, with so much of what he missed. Washington sucked him with his familiar intensity, with drive, with the urge to complete the goal. Washington held him down and let Alex brush against the back of his throat and he came with a cry.

Washington sucked every drop of come from him. He pushed Alex's thighs against his stomach and bent his head again and nothing, nothing was like Washington's tongue against his hole, what he was sure was Washington pushing his own come into him with his tongue. It was too much and he was going to die. He was too much and too wonderful and too good and Washington knew exactly how to make him scream. How was it possible that this piece of shit knew exactly how to eat his ass out?

Washington was going to make him come again, so fucking quick. It was going to hurt and Washington wasn't stopping, pressing broad fingers inside of him, touching his balls and his sensitive skin and vibrating soft hums against him. It was fucking electrifying, that's what it was. It was like pressing your entire nervous system directly into a fucking power station. He knew how Washington was - knew he was relentless and ruthless and powerful and unbending. Knew Washington always got his way, always made people listen to him, always eventually set things up the way he liked them. He knew it and yet he was surprised and amazed in all the best ways with the forge-hardened persistence that Washington came at his body. His poor flesh couldn't see it coming. It didn't know that Alex was going to serve it up five fucking stars after eating at the fast food equivalent of fucks for months.

When he came again it hurt, and anguished moans spilled from his lips, fingers and toes twitching. Washington lifted his head and Alex managed to force his eyes open enough to see that slick mouth, those eyes, the brow. He groaned and tried to move and Washington saw it, crawling back up to him and kissing him. Alex couldn't care less where that mouth had been. Fuck, as long as that mouth was on his, on his cock, on his body, it didn't matter. That mouth tasted like his come and his dick gave another twitch, this one feeling like lava.

"More?" Washington asked, and Alex nodded, or at least tried to.

Alex had to gather himself for a few moments before he could speak. "Fuck my brains out," he managed, and then pulled that mouth back to him, desperate and hungry. "Fuck me in every possible fucking way. Let me get your cock in my mouth."

Washington made a noise deep in his mouth which sounded like pleasure. With some effort he sat Alex somewhat up against the headboard, then awkwardly stripped his pants and boxers off.

There it was. There it was, the most wonderful fucking cock of all time. It was like looking at pictures of space and then literally being in the sky. It was like someone was explaining to you nature and then you were in some national fucking forest. It was like looking directly at the sun. Alex's mouth started watering, and he jerked forward, but Washington pushed him back against the headboard, not bending to his desperate wail.

"Is this what you want?" Washington asked, one hand loosely around his own cock, and Alex made a noise again. "Use your words."

"Please give me your cock," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"I want to jam it down my fucking throat."

Washington came a little closer, but he was still teasingly out of range.

"How much do you want it?"

"I will do fucking anything if you just let me swallow your dick."

Washington stared at him. He swallowed.

"Please let me suck it, sir," he said.

"Good."

Washington pulled his arm away and came closer and Alex couldn't wait, didn't. Needed that weight on his tongue, needed the size in his mouth, needed the heat and the throb of it. He had needed it since the day he left and finally he got it. He needed Washington holding his face and sliding his cock in and out of Alex's mouth. He needed Washington pressing so deep that he gagged. He needed Washington not letting up, even when the tears streamed down his face. He needed every fucking inch of George Washington.

Washington held him back when he pulled his cock from Alex's mouth, because he never would have separated otherwise. Washington looked at him, wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumb.

Alex coughed. "You are so fucking hot," he croaked, then cleared his throat, "Will you fuck my brains out now?"

"There's a box of condoms in the master bath. You should get them. Then go to my bed."

Alex nodded, because while it was tempting to argue what he actually wanted was to get his brains fucked out. So he staggered from the guest bedroom to the master bath and then heard Washington coming in too. He knew where all the shit was, after all. They'd fucked in this bathroom a lot.

Washington was sitting on the bed stroking his dick and Alex licked his lips.

"Put one on me," Washington said, and Alex ripped the condom from the wrapper with the drop of lube that Washington liked and slid it on. More on the outside. "Now put it inside you."

Alex felt the shiver rip through him. He was pretty sure he wasn't stretched enough and he hadn't taken Washington's huge cock in a while, and even so he couldn't fucking wait to get it. He got some lube on his fingers and felt his hole, still wet from Washington's tongue. Washington's dick in his other hand and --

\--- fuck, it was huge, even slick, and it was a stretch, pain and pleasure and electricity and heat and ice and the wonderfulness of it, how it felt to be full, how it felt to have Washington looking at him like that, with Washington's cock in his ass --

"You're gorgeous," Washington rumbled, stroking Alex's arms and his sides as he grit his teeth to get his body to adjust, "Look so good taking my cock into your tight little hole. Even tighter than I remember." He sunk a little down, and saw Washington's eyes flutter shut, felt the sharp breath in his chest. "Nothing like your body, Alex."

"Old man," Alex pressed out with effort, voice a breath as he struggled to get more of Washington inside him. He needed more, deeper, harder. "Like my youthful body on your old cock?"

"Little boy," Washington replied, his voice low, and fuck, Alex was a sucker for it, "Like my old cock inside you?"

He didn't answer. He wiggled down inside, taking deep breaths, trying to handle it. Enough, then, and a shift, and a clench; Washington gasped, and Alex smirked at him. Alex bounced a little, thighs flexing, and god it was good, god it was good, god it was so fucking good to have this man and his cock and his body and the way he gasped and his little moans --

He took more in. He set his hands on Washington's chest and road, knowing everything was going to burn tomorrow. Washington made the most delicious noises when Alex took him in, let him slide out, took him in. Washington held him down and jerked into him and it was so good, so deep, so much. Washington pushed him away and manhandled him on his hands and knees and pushed his face into the blanket and pushed inside of him. Nothing like this, that anyone else could give him. Nothing like this, that he had, that he could find. No, this was what he wanted, this is what he needed, this was the pinnacle. This man, this bed, fucking his brains out just like he wanted.

Washington staggered off the side off the bed and grabbed Alex by his hair, pushing him into the bedframe. Washington fucked him against the side of the bed and the sheets felt so good against his cock, sleek and wet with his sweat, and he came with a gasp from Washington on one side and the fabric on the other.

Washington made him hold onto the headboard and took him that way. He laid him on his side. He made Alex hold his own ankles. Alex came again at some point, when time stopped mattering and all that was important was that he had that cock in his ass. He let Washington twist him in whatever way he wanted and every time was better than the last.

He was laid down on his back and Washington was looking down at him. Dark skin gleamed in the lamplight, chest heaving. He reached with wet hands and pulled Alex's legs over his shoulders and pushed inside and even though it was easier it still felt so, so, so good.

"Fuck," Washington said, and Alex dug his nails into Washington's shoulders as he thrust, "I missed fucking you so much."

"I missed being fucked by you," Alex replied, in between whatever noise was left in his lungs.

Washington pressed his slick forehead to Alex's. "I'm going to come so hard inside your tight ass," he whispered.

"Blow your massive load inside me," Alex replied, and Washington pressed his tongue into his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Alex felt the push of his hips, felt something more now, a rise in intensity. He could hear Washington groaning into his mouth with the piston of his hips. He could feel the change, feel the pressure. He summoned the last of his energy and pressed against him clenching and rolling his back. Washington pressed his slick face into Alex's neck and came with a suppressed shout that vibrated through Alex's entire body.

It was like that for a long time.

Slowly, Washington stilled, pressed against him. Washington kissed him, tender. Washington whispered things he couldn't understand into his neck.

Washington twisted, just so he could dump the condom onto the floor. Alex rolled over and let Washington wrap around him, and then he was out.

****

Everything hurt when he woke up. Everything really, really, really hurt.

That he startled awake into a sitting position made it all hurt more.

He was in Washington's bed. He was back in his hometown. He had come here to fight about a boyfriend that wasn't real and then Washington had marathon-fucked him into oblivion. Hard to be mad at someone who marathon-fucked you.

No Washington in bed, but the bathroom light was on.

"What time is it?" he croaked into the bathroom.

A thought.

"You're not at work!"

A flush. Washington appeared from the bathroom. He was holding very tightly onto the doorknob, and Alex felt a strong satisfaction at that.

"I called in sick," Washington said, and limped back into the bed next to him.

"Who are you and what did you do with the real George Washington?"

"I also left a used condom on the floor last night," Washington replied, and pushed sweaty hair out of Alex's face. He took a breath, and the atmosphere changed. "I want you to have my real phone number."

Alex stared at him.

"You should call me. Sometimes. At night."

The idea dawned. "So we can have incredible phone sex?"

"Yes."

With a bit of effort Alex reached over to the bedside drawer he'd just opened yesterday. Yesterday afternoon, after the whiskey. From there he took a pen, inset with wooden designs with his name carved into it. He popped open the top and handed it to Washington, who gasped.

"Write it on me so I don't forget," he said, offering an arm.

"You brought it with you?" Washington asked, softly, as he was writing his number on Alex's arm.

"It seems to follow me around wherever I go," Alex replied, "Reminds me of someone else who sticks with me."


End file.
